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real man from the depths of his grief.
And generally he managed to keep a face like stone; but, upon the occasion when he learned of his friend McPherson's death, he went into his tent, and wept like a child.
At this time he walked in intimate silence with C. F. Smith, his West Point commandant, and his temporary superior now; and those who saw them say that Grant's manner to Smith was something of an old pupil's respect and something of a plain man's admiration for his more polished and splendid friend, while Smith, on his side, treated Grant as a creature whose larger dimensions he felt and bowed to. Some further pictures of Grant at Donelson show several sides of the man. On the eve of the surrender, Pillow had made a desperate sortie while Grant was conferring with Foote on his gunboat.
For a while it was a bad business; and when Grant returned, he flushed at the havoc made in
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